


Bitter Dregs (In Cold Morning Light)

by chaletian



Series: In Which The Enterprise Is Like A Village [17]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Plato's Stepchildren, references to past canon noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:30:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaletian/pseuds/chaletian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What? Two non-couples are forced to make out by would-be Platonic idealists, and the entire ship <i>doesn’t</i> go crazy with the fall-out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitter Dregs (In Cold Morning Light)

“Check it out,” says Jim. He’s levitating a stack of old twentieth century books he keeps in his quarters. Rand grabs them out of thin air, tucks them under her arm, and shoves a padd under Jim’s nose. Jim looks at her warily. “Guess you heard what happened,” he says, which kind of goes without saying, because _everyone’s_ heard what happened.  
  
“Please sign the maintenance request, Captain,” says Rand coolly, and Jim meekly does as he’s told.  
  
“For the record,” he begins, but Rand’s already heading out of the door.  
  
“It’s none of my business, Captain,” she says. Jim scowls. He’s always fucking hated Plato.  
  


oOo

  
  
“It totally doesn’t count!” says Sulu.  
  
“They kissed!” protests Crewman Cho, and his pals nod in agreement.  
  
“Everyone knows they kissed,” adds Crewman Xiang (a little wistfully, because in that one dream she had it was totally her and Crewman Paris down on Platonius).  
  
“Zey were under mind control!” says Chekov, a little frantically.  
  
“So what?” demands Cho. “Bet was just for Kirk and Uhura getting it on. Nobody ever specified the hows and whys.”  
  
“ _Getting it on_ ,” says Sulu, “does not include _being made to kiss by weird-ass aliens_.”  
  
“My eye, it doesn’t,” puts in McKinley, and everyone’s nodding now.  
  
“Bozhe moi,” mutters Chekov under his breath. “Zis vill be _bad_.”  
  


oOo

  
  
“So, hey,” says Jim, hovering awkwardly in the doorway of the main Communications room, “Bones tells me Sulu and Chekov just lost a mint.”  
  
Uhura doesn’t look up. “I hear.”  
  
“Not that they were betting on, y’know, us,” he adds hastily, making a vague hand gesture. This is clearly a lie, and Uhura raises an eyebrow.  
  
“Really?” she asks.  
  
“Well,” says Jim, and Uhura grins at him.  
  
“Captain…”  
  
“Look, Uhura, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” He comes into the room, looking penitent and, Uhura thinks, about twelve years old. “I mean, crap like this happens on away missions, we both know it, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault. But I’m sorry it was me and you and I’m sorry the gossip mill can’t let it go.”  
  
They look at each other for a moment.  
  
“It was… weird,” Uhura says eventually. “But, like you say, these things happen. I mean, Linus Prime, case in p---”  
  
“You know we don’t talk about that,” interrupted Jim quickly, glancing around.  
  
“Whatever,” says Uhura, with a laugh, “I’m not saying that whole puppet-mind-control thing was fine, because clearly not, and… what?”  
  
Jim’s grinning now. “I’ve still got it,” he whispers confidentially. He makes an empty chair zip across the room. “Cool, huh!”  
  
“No, Captain! Not cool!” exclaims Uhura. “Don’t do that! Why hasn’t it gone away? Did you talk to Dr McCoy?” Her eyes narrow. “And don’t tell me I’m ‘harshing your buzz’, whatever that means, because I swear, captain or not, I will hit you.”  
  
Jim, who was contemplating those exact words, looks innocent. Uhura, who is not an idiot, just glares at him, arms crossed.  
  
“I’ll go see Bones,” he says eventually, and points out the door. “I’m going. Right now. I’m gone. I’m sorry!” he adds, calling back from the corridor, and Uhura shakes her head and gets back to work.  
  


oOo

  
  
“No,” says Chekov definitively. “No way.”  
  
“It was like a mental battle, dude,” says Rodriguez. “So obvious.”  
  
“I mean,” adds Ivanov, “everyone knows Vulcans are psychic, right?”  
  
Rodriguez points at him. “Psychic battle, dude, ‘s what we’re saying.”  
  
“Zere was no psychic battle,” says Chekov, not stinting in his use of air quotes. “Zere was no battle of any kind. Captain Kirk and Commander Spock have not,” he checks a padd, “battled for Lt Uhura’s hand, and zat is the final word on the matter.”  
  
He stalks off. Rodriguez and Ivanov share a glance.  
  
“Bummer,” says Rodriguez.  
  


oOo

  
  
“Did you and Kirk really have a psychic battle?” asks Uhura as she brushes her hair. Spock looks up, surprised.  
  
“We did not,” he says. He looks momentarily confused. “Is this a human ritual in which we should have engaged?” He stands up straighter. “I am aware Human women in sexual relationships can experience irrational emotional responses. Whilst the events of the mission to Platonius were beyond our control and thus should logically have no emotional ramifications, I know that this will not necessarily be the case. Therefore, although it seems illogical to me, I will, if you desire, engage in a psychic battle with the Captain.”  
  
“Um…”  
  
“Although,” adds Spock, in the spirit of full disclosure, “I am not, I confess, entirely certain on how one commences a psychic battle.”  
  
“Honey…”  
  
“And,” Spock continues doggedly, “I would like to take the opportunity to state explicitly that I had no desire to kiss Nurse Chapel, as I assume you had no desire to kiss Captain Kirk.”  
  
“I…”  
  
“However, I will spend tonight researching the psychic battle,” finishes Spock, and Uhura smiles, long and languorous.  
  
“Oh, honey,” she says, “that is definitely _not_ what you’re spending tonight doing.”  
  


oOo

  
  
“If this is about Uhura and Chapel having a bitchfight on the bridge, you can all just turn straight back round again,” says Sulu, “because I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life. Oh, and Fernandez? Report to Chief Nashvili, please. Don’t think I don’t know you’re supposed to be on duty right now.”  
  


oOo

  
  
“Ah, Nurse Chapel,” says Spock, his step barely faltering. “I was looking for Dr McCoy.”  
  
“He’s in Engineering,” says Chapel, looking fixedly at a point over his left shoulder. “One of the sealant pipes burst.”  
  
“I see. He asked me to come to Sickbay so he could scan me for any lingering kironide,” says Spock. “I understand that the Captain was still displaying telekinetic abilities.”  
  
“Of course.” Chapel picks up the medical tricorder. “If I may, Commander?” She’s still not looking at him.  
  
“An odd planet,” says Spock whilst she scans him.  
  
“Mm,” agrees Chapel, pressing a button and waving the tricorder again.  
  
“And kironide is an odd substance,” continues Spock. “I need to discuss it with Dr McCoy. I find I remember very little of what happened whilst on Platonius. It must be a side effect of some sort.”  
  
“Right,” says Chapel. “Well, it looks like it’s all been metabolised, Commander.”  
  
“That is excellent news, Nurse,” says Spock. He thanks her gravely, and leaves.  
  
Chapel stares blindly at the tricorder in her hands. “Side effect. Right.”  
  


oOo

  
  
Bridgerton, laid back and amused, collects her winnings. “Y’know,” she says kindly to Chekov, “you might want to get that looked at.”  
  
He shoots her a poisonous look, only barely hampered by the noticeable black eye blooming on his cheek. “Sickbay was mystewiously empty,” he replies, handing over her credits.  
  
“Anyone taken responsibility?” she asks.  
  
Chekov scowls. “My assailant remains unknown,” he says grandly.  
  
“Uh-huh,” she says. “Always knew you and Sulu would come croppers over this whole bookie thing.”  
  
“The motives of my assailant remain unknown,” Chekov says.  
  
“Okaaay,” says Bridgerton, and saunters off.  
  


oOo

  
  
“I have _never_ been so _humiliated_ in my entire _life_ ,” says Christine. Janice pours her another drink. There’s not anything you can really say when one of your friends is forced by aliens into making out with the guy she’s been in love with for a couple of years, and then _tells_ him she’s been in love with him, and then has to live on a ship where everyone _knows_. Well, not about the in-love thing, just the kissing part.  
  
“It sucks,” she says.  
  
“And people were _betting_ on it,” wails Christine. She’s pretty drunk now.  
  
“Not really,” says Janice. “At least,” she adds, “not any more.” She smiles grimly. She’s pretty sure Chekov will have seen the error his ways.  
  
“That’s it,” says Christine. “I have to be reassigned.”  
  
“OK, now you’re just being pathetic, Chris. Look, nobody’s gonna remember this in a few weeks. It was a crazy thing on a crazy planet, like all the other crazy stuff that happens. Give it some time, and everyone will have moved on to something else. Henderson and Chitnavis will have another epic row. McCoy’ll space Winters. That guy Lewis in Security’ll either snap completely or just ask Lucy Dawson out. Klingons’ll attack. Romulans’ll blow up the Neutral Zone. Archer’ll make good on his threats to court martial Scotty. You know?”  
  
“I have the worst life ever,” says Christine, burying her head in her arms. Janice takes a swig of Romulan ale she’d liberated from Kirk’s quarters for this evening.  
  
“Whatever,” she says, unsympathetically, “at least you don’t have McCoy _levitating_ everything in sight and making the world’s hugest mess.” She sighs, and peers at the shimmering surface of her drink. “I swear the guy’s about twelve. A really, really cute twelve.”  
  
“Mmwhat?”  
  
“Huh? What? Nothing.” She pulls Christine’s arm across her shoulders. “C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”  
  


oOo

  
  
“So, yeah,” says Sulu. “We’re not really taking that kind of bet any more.”  
  


oOo

  
  
“Check it out,” says Jim. “I can’t levitate anything any more.”  
  
“Too bad,” lies Rand.  
  
“I know, right? Still, the sooner we forget that place the better.” He sneaks a sideways glance at her. “I hear everything’s settling back down again after all the excitement.”  
  
“Seems to be,” says Rand.  
  
“And everyone’s cool with everyone.”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“And someone beat up Chekov and I’m pretty sure got him to promise to stop taking bets on people’s private lives. Gave him quite the shiner.”  
  
“No kidding,” says Rand, flicking through the pads she has to go over with him.  
  
“Yeoman, you really can’t beat up my crew.” His voice is serious now, and she looks up, startled. He grins, a little wryly. “However pure your motives may be. I’ll talk to them. Both of them. You’re right; I think they’ve gone a little far. But violence really isn’t the solution.”  
  
“Violence isn’t the solution,” Rand repeats flatly, hands still frozen on the padds. Jim grins.  
  
“I know. No comment necessary.” He takes the padds from her, gently. “If there’s a problem… if you see a problem, you can tell me, Yeoman.”  
  
“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I know.”  
  
“Because I’m the captain,” he says blithely, leaning back.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“The captain of this fine ship. The ruler of all I survey. The…”  
  
Rand rolls her eyes. “The pain in our respective asses,” she says. “Just do the paperwork, Captain.”  
  
“Wish I could still make it fly.”  
  
“Whatever.”


End file.
